Cool Schools Make a Difference
How better school buildings can strengthen learning, expand opportunity, and rebuild community
Estimated read time is 8 minutes—we all have thoughts on schools, so I hope this one is worth your time. Enjoy!
If nationalizing education funding is one of the central structural reforms we should be considering, there is a second—nearly as important—that has also received scant attention: the physical condition of America’s schools. Put simply, because of deep and persistent inequities in school district funding, too many school buildings are outdated, deteriorating, and unfit for the demands of a twenty-first century education system. And that is not just an aesthetic problem. It is a national performance problem.
The Case for a National School Infrastructure Program
The scale of the challenge is significant. The United States has more than 98,000 PK–12 schools serving nearly fifty million students across roughly 14,000 districts—about half of which operate in buildings that are more than fifty years old. In 2025, even as other forms of infrastructure improved following new federal investments under Joe Biden, the American Society of Civil Engineers (ASCE) continued to give the nation’s school infrastructure a D+ grade, estimating a backlog of at least $270 billion in maintenance and repair needs. That figure does not include an additional $100 billion required to bring existing buildings up to modern standards. Taken together, this amounts to an annual funding gap of roughly $85 billion—before considering the more responsible approach of adopting full replacement cycles for outdated schools.
This state of affairs reflects the same structural funding dilemma that shapes American education more broadly: poorer states and districts simply cannot afford to maintain—much less replace—the buildings they already have. Addressing this would yield substantial returns in the development of the nation’s human capital, because the evidence is clear: the physical environment of learning has a direct impact on educational outcomes.
Research synthesized by the U.S. Department of Education and the 21st Century School Fund shows that students in well-maintained, modern facilities outperform those in deteriorating buildings. The mechanisms are straightforward and cumulative:
Air quality and ventilation affect cognitive function and concentration, with work from the Harvard Chan School of Public Health showing measurable impacts on decision-making and attention.
Temperature control matters—students exposed to excessive heat perform worse on exams, a finding reinforced in studies associated with the National Bureau of Economic Research (and nearly 14,000 schools currently lack air conditioning).
Lighting, particularly natural light, is linked to faster progress in math and reading.
Acoustics and noise control affect comprehension and classroom engagement.
Layer onto this the indirect effects:
Poor facilities contribute to higher absenteeism due to health issues, as documented by the Environmental Protection Agency.
Deteriorating schools make it harder to attract and retain high-quality teachers, a dynamic emphasized by the Learning Policy Institute.
Taken together, these factors point to a clear conclusion: school infrastructure is not peripheral to educational performance—it is part of it.
And yet, under the current system, the quality of that infrastructure remains heavily dependent on local tax bases. The result is predictable. The worst buildings are disproportionately found in the poorest communities—the very places where educational investment is most needed. This is precisely the kind of problem the federal government is well-suited to address.
National School Sustainability Program
A national program would not require federal involvement in curriculum, hiring, or day-to-day operations. It would instead function as a targeted redistribution mechanism, ensuring that every child—regardless of zip code—has access to a modern, well-designed learning environment. A sensible approach would be to adopt a National School Sustainability Program built around a proactive, steady-state funding model—one that establishes a predictable annual investment of roughly $250 billion, or about $5,000 per student.
That investment would support three core pillars. First, a 3 percent annual maintenance and operations commitment (roughly $130 billion), designed to preserve building quality and prevent the accumulation of deferred maintenance. Second, an annual portfolio replacement rate of roughly 2 percent (about $85 billion), ensuring that no school building remains in use beyond a 50-year lifespan. Third, a dedicated mid-cycle modernization fund (about $35 billion), allowing every school to be meaningfully upgraded at roughly the 25-year mark.
Taken together, this framework would shift the United States from a system defined by deterioration and delay to one defined by renewal and predictability. Moving from the current national average of roughly $2,200 per student in facilities spending to a $5,000 per-student infrastructure commitment would close the $85 billion annual funding gap and, over time, eliminate the accumulated backlog of deferred maintenance.
While this represents a meaningful increase in total education spending—on the order of 15 to 20 percent—it would fundamentally transform school facilities from decaying liabilities into long-term national assets. It is best understood not as consumption, but as a vital economic investment.
Education has long been one of the highest-return public investments available. Expanding access to high-quality learning environments strengthens cognitive development, improves long-term earnings, and raises overall productivity. The returns are not immediate, and they do not show up cleanly in a single budget cycle. But over time, they compound. Research consistently finds that education spending yields between $2 and $3 in economic output for every dollar invested.
Put differently, if we invest roughly $1.25 trillion annually—$1 trillion for operations and an additional $250 billion for infrastructure—and apply those same return dynamics, the long-term effect is on the order of $2.5 to $3.75 trillion in additional economic output. That is equivalent to roughly 8 to 12 percent of the current U.S. economy. There are few other areas of public policy where investments of this scale plausibly generate returns of that magnitude.
This becomes especially important as we enter what is often described as a fourth industrial revolution, in which human capital will play an increasingly central role in defining national competitiveness.
Schools as Community Anchors
There is a second dimension to this conversation—one that is far less discussed. It rests on a simple idea: schools do not need to be only places of learning. They can—and should—be among the most important pieces of our social infrastructure, providing benefits that extend well beyond education and help offset the costs of building and maintaining them.
At a moment when Americans are divided into two tribes that increasingly view each other with hostility, we could use spaces where people come together around shared values—not least of which is a common commitment to our children. In recent decades, as the nation has become more suburban and more secular, we have seen a steady decline in so-called “third places”—spaces that are neither home nor work, but where people meet, interact, and build shared experiences. Schools are one of the few remaining institutions capable of serving this role, yet they remain an underutilized resource—partly because too many are in dire physical condition.
I’ve seen this in my own life. As my son has moved through elementary, middle, and high school, these have been spaces not just for education, but for community. I’ve met other parents, attended performances, watched sporting events, and shared in the rhythms of a common institution. These are not trivial interactions—they are part of how social trust is built.
But two problems stand out. First, access is often limited. In practice, many school-based experiences are available primarily to parents of enrolled students, rather than to the broader community. Second—and more fundamentally—we underutilize these spaces.
For large portions of the afternoon, evenings, weekends, and summers, school facilities—often the most substantial public buildings in a community—sit partially or entirely unused. That is a missed opportunity. There is no inherent reason why, particularly with joint-use agreements between schools and municipalities that involve shared funding models to monitor and maintain these spaces:
outdoor fields, tracks, and playgrounds should not be open for community recreation outside school hours
auditoriums should not host local cultural events
classrooms should not support adult education programs
gymnasiums should not be available for broader public use
One concern in recent decades that has limited access is that these spaces can be difficult to secure. It is worth noting, however, that this challenge is not unique to schools. Many public spaces face similar risks. The question is not whether these risks exist, but whether we are willing to manage them—through design, staffing, and operational protocols—rather than allowing valuable public infrastructure to sit largely unused during off-hours. If we are willing to invest roughly $250 billion annually in school infrastructure, we should insist on getting the maximum possible value from that investment—including making these spaces more accessible to the communities that fund them.
Where We Build Matters
A final dimension of school construction is also worth considering, particularly if we think of schools as valuable third places. For decades, school siting has been shaped by outdated guidelines that favored sprawling campuses—especially for middle and high schools—often located on the outskirts of communities and accessible primarily by car.
This runs counter to more sensible planning principles. As Clarence Perry wrote nearly a century ago, schools should serve as central, walkable focal points of community life—embedded within neighborhoods and supported by surrounding residences, parks, and local amenities.
We can see this in our own lives. My son walked to his elementary school, which sits near the center of our small town. But the middle and high schools were built on the fringes, making them harder to access and therefore rarely used outside school hours.
Yet schools do not require large sites. Buildings can be more vertical, with playing fields arranged more efficiently, allowing for a compact footprint. With these principles in mind, even middle and high schools could fit comfortably into the municipal fabric. This would support walkability and public health, strengthen the connection between schools and neighborhoods, and make schools more viable as community anchors beyond school hours.
If we are going to invest nationally in rebuilding school infrastructure, we should not simply replicate the patterns of the recent past. New schools should be centrally located where possible, designed for both educational and community use, and accessible beyond the school day.
Conclusion
If we are serious about building a world-class education system—and about strengthening the social fabric that underpins it—we need to pay attention to the physical environments in which education takes place.
Well-designed schools improve learning. They support teachers. They promote health. And, if we choose to use them that way, they can help rebuild the kinds of shared spaces that American life increasingly lacks.
This is not a marginal reform. It is a structural investment—in both human capital and community. And like many of the most important investments we face, it is one we are more than capable of making.
COMING NEXT WEEK: We will examine how the federal government might foster the adoption of curricular best practices to achieve our educational goals.